When my dog Buster died, I couldn't get over it. I was in bits.

I take a script and mull over it and underline the bits I want to emphasize. When I go to the set, I know exactly what I want to do.

I get depressed when the sun is clouded over. It affects me.

I have an obsession with mortality. I saw a friend die when I was 18, and I can't get over it.

Once your IQ is 150 or over, it stops beings ability and becomes a disability.

My primary school teacher once poured a bottle of curdled school milk forcefully down my throat. Then I threw it up all over her suede shoes. I'd rather have drunk from the spittoon in Barney's barber shop.